Lady Mercy stood on the pavement comforting the little girl.
"Never moind, Puddles," said her brother, coming up with the dog in his arms. "Our Prince will cure 'im."
"Prince is doying, brother, you know thet."
"Who is Prince, my boy?" asked Lady Mercy.
"'E's our only friend. 'E's father and mother to all hus poor."
"Is he beautiful?" she asked eagerly.
"What, in the faice? Rather not."
"Ah! then it cannot be he," said Lady Mercy sadly. "Why do you call him Prince?"
"Becos 'e is Prince—the Prince of Pity. 'E's ill now; but 'e says 'e can't doi till something 'appens."